On his latest release, Double Up, a certain R. Kelly declared his arrival on album opener "The Champ," while triumphant horns blared a victory march. San Francisco's very own The Fucking Champs, however, did it first, their dynamic breed of metal packing the bone-crushing punch of a heavyweight fighter -- 'roid raging with the best of them. Imagine the slow-motion saliva slinging when the Drag City band's right hook lands on the unsuspecting face of audiences everywhere, beads of sweat erupting at contact, raining down onto the mat.

On their impending tour, The Fucking Champs are taking the championship spirit to the limit, embodying the fury of a young Mike Tyson in a raw display of brute strength, testosterone and a homicidal streak. The band channeled Tyson himself as they spoke on their approaching dates:

On Their Fans

"You're sweet. We're going to make sure you kiss us good with those big lips. We're gonna make you our girlfriends."

On Their Detractors

"There are nine million people who see us... and hate our guts. Most of them are white. That's okay. Just spell our name right."

On The Live Show

"[We] just want them to keep bringing guys on and [we're] going to strip them of their health. [We] bring pain, a lot of pain."

On Why You Should Show Up To A Date Near You

"We're coming for you man. Our style is impetuous. Our defense is impregnable, and we're just ferocious. We want your heart. We want to eat your children."